Neurosis
by SSJL
Summary: Love is really just another kind of OCD, isn't it?


**A/N: I wrote a Will/Emma ficlet. Because they are LOVE. That is all. **

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People assumed that the reason Will didn't fit into her life because he was married. But in reality, that was only a small part of the reason.

She liked her life ordered. Uncomplicated. And very, very clean.

Loving Will Schuester was extremely inconvenient. Very complicated. And (the thought made her shiver a little) it was possibly the _dirtiest _thing that had ever passed through her very structured, red little head.

And _that _was the reason he didn't fit.

There were no pamphlets to tell her how to deal with loving a man who was completely wrong for you. She knew, because she had checked. The closest was one on stalking, and she gave herself a little more credit than that.

But just a little.

And when he sat down beside her in the break room, smiling that easy smile and seeming so damn _relaxed, _it nearly broke her brain, trying to understand why bad posture suddenly seemed so _sexy _to her.

He asked her how the wedding planning was going, because that was the kind of guy he was; concerned, caring, and she had to pretend it wasn't the _most _awkward thing in the universe to talk about marriage with him.

She told him about the dress fittings and the ring shopping and the trying to talk Ken out of writing his own vows when his idea of romantic expression was to spray a whole can of air freshener (which didn't disinfect at _all) _after he used the bathroom. Soon all the things she had found so annoying seemed hilarious she was laughing along with him.

"I barely remember all those things," he told her. "I'm sure that I had headaches about all the wedding hoopla, but when you're finally married, it just seems like a strange dream." He seemed wistful.

"Will?" she asked tentatively, knowing it was probably ill-advised to continue in this line of conversation but compelled to continue anyway. "Do you remember why you got married?"

"Why?" He seemed surprised by the question; not that she had asked it, but by his inability to come up with a quick response. "Well, Terri and I had been together for so long, and everybody expected it, and she was so anxious for a ring…" His eyes seemed to glaze over for a second.

"Because it was the logical thing to do." She nodded. "I understand that."

He came back to her then, looking at her earnestly. "And because I loved her, of course. I guess I shouldn't forget that one."

She forced a smile. "Of course."

His face turned questioning. "So, Miss Pillsbury. Why are _you _getting married?"

She should have expected him to turn the question back on her. But that didn't seem to lessen the blow. "Because…"

_Because Ken doesn't require that I love him back. And that makes things as neat as they can be._

He'd never accept that as an answer, and she knew it.

"…Because it makes sense," she settled on, and she wondered it if were his eyes that looked so sad, or if they were just reflecting her own.

Silence fell over the room for a few, intolerable seconds before he took pity on her. "Well, I hope you are going to be so happy, Emma. No one deserves it more than you." He grinned at her, and she found herself entranced by the dimple it formed on his cheek.

"Thanks, Will." Her fair skin could never hide a blush, and she cursed that (not for the first time) now.

He held up his glass of juice in a mock salute. "To you. And the very cleanest of marriages."

She smiled, and it faded in surprise just a second too late as he leaned across the tale and brushed his lips against the flush of her cheek. By the time she could have responded in _any _way, he was back on his side of the table. Exactly where he was _supposed _to be. And with anybody else, the only thing she'd be able to think about was how many germs were transmitted by the human mouth, but with him…

"Sometimes I wish it wouldn't be so clean," she murmured.

He looked at her in sympathy…no, _empathy. _"And sometimes, I wish it would be _more _so."

Then the bell rung, signifying the end of the lunch period. Emma liked the bells, liked the structure they kept. She watched him leave, the most uncomplicated of complicated men. The cleanest of the dirty.

And she realized that loving him was her most powerful neurosis of all.


End file.
